Presidential
by ElesaryAyres
Summary: The adventures of Macey McHenry, her not-boyfriend Preston Winters and friends. Some are very short, others are longer. All rights go to Ally Carter.
1. Chapter 1

Macy

January 16

11: 31 PM

"Bed." I said sternly, flipping the light with a satisfying click.

Liz ignored me, continuing to facetime with Jonas, her boyfriend who went to Blackthorn Academy. In fact, all my friends boyfriends went to Assassin school. Except me, I didn't have a boyfriend, exactly, but he went to a private school in Washington DC, training to be President. But again, I didn't have a boyfriend.

I clambered up onto Liz's bed and peered over her shoulder to look at her adorably geeky boyfriend. "Hey, Jonas, do you know what time it is now?" I asked with false sincerity. "Night time, and we have class in a few hours, and I can't sleep with all the nerd love going on over here, so, goodnight." I closed the computer.

"That was rude," Liz commented a few minutes later, when I was in my own bed, although she didn't sound mad. "You could have let me say goodnight at least."

I snorted. "Oh please, I totally heard you guys playing the 'no, you hang up first' game for at least 3.6 minutes, so don't you give me that."

I could almost hear Liz smile a few feet away. "Good, you're getting better."

Liz was a good tutor for all things spy.

"Goodnight, Liz."

"Goodnight, Macy."


	2. Chapter 2

Preston

Saturday January 19

4:19 AM

I had woken up in the middle of the night with a strong desire to see Macy, and since my father was the President of the United States of America, I was able to call a driver and get myself on a flight to Virginia.

I arrived a little after four in the morning and rented a car to drive to the Gallagher Academy for exceptional young ladies, to kidnap the Vice-Presidents daughter.

I was tired of not knowing what was between us. I was never sure if she loved me or hated me, if we were together or enemies, if she was my friend or my girlfriend. So we were going to go out for breakfast, and then we were going to talk.

Of course, Macy McHenry was awfully particular about the proper time to be woken up on a Saturday, so I brought her a present. I don't know why they call diamonds a girl's best friend, when they have provided more help to guys since the beginning of time.

The sun began to rise as I parked outside the walls, staring at the gates.

This is where my genius plan had ended, I had no idea how to actually get inside and find Macy.

I wasn't a Blackthorn boy; I didn't have the skills to secretly enter one of the most secure places in the country, if not the world.

If I were Zach Goode, I would be clever enough to sneak in, if I were Jonas Smith, I would be able to hack into the mainframe and disengage the security systems. If I were Grant Samson, I'd be able to goad Bex into coming out personally to kick my ass,

But no, I was Preston Winters, one of the most accomplished and successful kids in the country, if you believed the New York Times (which I did). But none of that meant shit, because I lacked the skills that would get me inside the mansion.

I got out of the car and slapped the hood in frustration (because that fixed everything).

I was about to give up and start the long journey back, when I saw Rebecca Baxter (AKA Bex) running around the perimeter of the school.

"Hey! Hey Bex!" I called jogging up to the gate.

She shot me a look and stopped, crossing her arms over her sweat soaked sports bra; it was all she wore, over nylon leggings, in the middle of January, in the snow. She raised an eyebrow. "Shouldn't you have, like a million bodyguards or something?" she asked.

I shrugged, "I figured you didn't want 'like a million bodyguards' to know all about this place."

"You shouldn't know about this place." She pointed out.

"My dad leaves confidential files on the table." I said, not about to tell anyone that Macy had told me all about this place, even if it was one of her best friends.

Bex cocked her head to the side. "You're pretty good at lying, you'll be a good politician one day."

I gave her my campaign smile. "Yep that's the one," she muttered under her breath.

"What?"

"Nothing, did you want something?"

I swallowed, "Could you get Macy?"

She nodded, "I could."

I let out the breath I'd been holding. "Great would you give her- you're not going to get her, are you?"

"Nope." Bex popped the P and narrowed her eyes at me. "You're smarter then you look."

"So I've been told." I replied wearily. "Why wont you get her? I want to take her to breakfast."

Bex re-crossed her arms and shifted her weight to her other foot. The cold was finally affecting her. ""You obviously don't know her very well if you think she's awake at- "Bex squinted at the rising sun "-five thirty in the morning."

"I pulled off my coat and handed it through the bars to Bex. "I know her well enough to have brought her- well its in the pocket now." I nodded at the coat she had yet to take.

She eyed me suspiciously. "What are you doing?"

"Giving you my coat. I have a heated car right there, and I was raised to be a gentlemen. Now will you please get Macy? She can tell me herself to go away."

Bex reached into the pocket and opened the black rectangle, eyes going wide. "Well, shit, Rich boy, she just might get up for this."

I rubbed my arms and bounced on my toes. "I'm counting on it."

Macy was pissed when she emerged from the gates thirty minutes later. "You _do_ know what time it is, don't you?" she slammed to door of the car for emphasis.

Despite it only being around six in the morning, she looked as beautiful as she always did. She was dressed causally, in doodled-upon skinny jeans and a dark blue e cubed shirt.

"You look beautiful," I told her seriously, looking into her eyes so she'd know I meant it.

"_That's_ not going to get you anywhere." She said crossly, but I could tell she was pleased. "What do you want?"

I didn't answer her question as I pulled away from the curve and drove to town. "Want breakfast? I want breakfast."

"I don't eat breakfast." She crossed her arms with a harrumph.

"Do you always lie in the morning? Cause I know with all the shit they make you do all day, you eat."

"Not at six am _on a Saturday_, you dirt bag!"

"You know," I told her conversationally "I've been called a lot of things in my life, talented, generous, maybe pretentious at times, but you're the first to call me a dirt bag, to my face, at least."

We pulled into the small ma and pa diner and I parked the car. We didn't speak again until we were seated at a shiny vinyl booth and the drowsy waitress served us the first cup of coffee of the day.

"So, are you ever going to tell me why you showed up on my doorstep and 5:30 this morning and brought me diamonds?" Macy asked, looking at me over the rim of her chipped cup.

I forced a smile as my stomach flipped; this was going to be hard to say. "My entire life," I started, "I've been told that one day I would be the president of the United Sates of America."

"So have I, and countless other children in this country." Macy commented.

"Shut up," I told her. "Anyway, it has always been my goal and that hasn't changed, as soon as I am eligible, I will put my name on the ballot, and I will win."

"What does that have to do with me?" Macy interrupted, again.

"Would you please shut your pretty mouth? I'm getting there." I snapped. I was going to lose my nerve if she interrupted me again. "I am going to be President, and you know the game as well as I do, and you'd be the perfect Presidents wife-"

"Are you trying to get me to marry you? Are you insane?"

"For the love of all that is holy, STOP TALKING!"

I took a deep breath. "I wasn't finished. No, I am not asking you to be my wife, I just want you to admit that we have something, and I want you to go out with me."

Sometime during my tirade, Macy had put her coffee on the table and was staring at me. "You don't ask many girls out do you?"

I stared back at her, not answering. "Cuz, like, usually, when a guy asks a girl out, he doesn't tell her she would be a great wife and to shut up, like, five times. Just an observation."

I cleared my throat. "It was only three times, and you're a bit intimidating, and I didn't want to lose my nerve."

"Oh, well as long as you know that," she muttered, "Fine, I'll go out with you, and that means you have to buy my coffee and take me home."

I smiled hugely, "Really? You will? Why do I have to take you back now?"

"Yes, really. You have to take me back because I have to talk to the girls. About you."

I put some money on the table and we walked back to the car, shrugging our coats back on. "Do you tell them everything? About me?"

"Yes."

We didn't speak much on the way home, but I held her hand, which was just starting to form calluses from holding a gun, was it wrong that I found that hot as hell?

"We're here," I told her lamely as we pulled up to the gate. _Idiot._

"I see that," she said, a small smile on her face.

I leaned over and pressed a chaste kiss to her mouth, "I'll call you." I told her, "Well, actually, I'll probably just show up."

She smiled for real this time, and stepped out of the car, then she leaned over and I opened the window so I could hear what she said. She leaned her elbows on the sill, "I'm glad you came." She said.

And then she walked away without looking back, and vanished into the school.


	3. Chapter 3

Preston

Wednesday February 20

2:22 am

My phone buzzed next to my ear, waking me from my sleep. I grabbed it without opening my eyes. "Hullo?" I asked, voice fuzzy with sleep.

"Preston!" Macy whisper shouted, sending static hissing through the phone.

My eyes shot open, what the hell was Macy doing calling me at, I squinted at the clock, 2:23 in the morning?

"Macy, are you al right?' I asked, pushing myself to a sitting position.

She giggled. "No, I'm only a Gallagher Girl because of my great great something grandmother, not because of me, ya know?" her voice was slurred.

I gripped the phone tighter. "Are you drunk, Macy?"

"Only a lot." Giggle.

I sighed and rubbed the bridge of my nose. "Where are you, Honey?"

"In my bathroom. Preston? Why do you like me, Preston? Is it just because our Daddy's work together? You can tell me, Preston."

I sighed, "Of course not, Mace. I like you because you are beautiful and smart and fun and make me laugh."

Her giggles turned to sobs. "You're soooooo sweeet Preston, no one else loves me, the girls have to because of Gillian…"

Her voice fell away "Macy?" I heard a door open and Cammie gasp.

"Bex, Liz, get in here!" Cammie said, "we need to get her to bed."

"Where did she get the tequila?" Bex asked, and I heard liquid pour down the drain. "What a waste."

"Bex!" Liz scolded. "Hello?" he sweet little voice said into the receiver.

I cleared my throat. "Hey Liz, it's Preston, is she okay?"

"Oh, hi Preston," she said and I heard Bex snort in the background.

"I can't wait to see her face when she realizes she broke on of her precious rules."

"Don't dial drunk." All three girls said in unison, "Especially boys, particularly boyfriends."

I cleared my throat again. "Have her call me in the morning, after her hangover."

"Sure thing." Click.

I put my phone and stared at it for a while, digesting what I'd just heard. Macy had shared with me her insecurity, something she kept bottled up tighter then anyone else I had ever met.

And with that knowledge, I felt myself quietly slip over the edge of in love with her.


	4. Chapter 4

Preston

Wednesday February 27

11:51 AM

I called Macey for about the millionth time this week, and, once again, reached her voicemail. I tossed the phone at the bed in frustration, watching dispassionately as it bounced off and hit the hard wood floor. "Damn it Macey," I sighed.

It had been a week since she got drunk and called me. It had also been a week since I'd heard from her.

I had also called Liz, Bex and Cammie, but neither of them had answered either.

I would see all of them this evening though, the Spanish Delegation was arriving tonight, and we were hosting a dinner with dancing after in their honor.

It was also our debut as a couple, our publicist had been ecstatic when I revealed our new status to her, and she had insisted we would be the next "power-couple" but only if we "Came out with the right amount of pizzazz!" Debra Lassiter was the kind of woman who used words like "Pizzazz" and "Fantabulous" a lot.

Macey just _loved_ her.

"Mr. Winters?" someone knocked on my door, "your mother would like to see you in the front parlor before lunch."

I sighed and tucked my phone back into my pocket and went to meet my mother for lunch.

My mother was waiting for me when I arrived. She stood by the door, examining her flawless makeup in the mirror. " Mother," I said, as I entered "You look lovely."

"Why, thank you, darling." She said to me, brushing a lily-scented kiss over my cheek, careful not to actually touch my skin. "Shall we go?"

My mother and I ate lunch together every Wednesday. Debra Lassiter had arranged it to be leaked to the press, and they just loved it, and made a point of bringing it up, and taking pictures every, single, week.

We went to a classy little eatery known for its delicious food, small portion sizes and exorbitant prices. My mother loved it; I always had to pick something else up on the way back to school.

I went to an exclusive Professional Children's School which allowed me to travel with my father and miss school to go to lunch with my mother, or spend all day preparing for an evening event, which she insisted was _entirely_ necessary.

"So, darling, when exactly where you intending to tell me about your new relationship with the McHenry girl?" My mother asked when the waiter had delivered their food and retreated. My mother's voice was deceptively soft, cutting, the one she used when she caught my father with one of his secretaries. She was a Senators wife to the letter, classy, loyal and as passive aggressive as they came.

I froze, a bite of my lasagna an inch from my mouth. I carefully lowered my fork and gave my full attention to my mother, who demurely placed a bite of her endive salad into her mouth. Her eyes met mine, much more indicative of her present mood then her tone of voice.

"I see you spoke to Ms. Lassiter."

"I didn't have to," my mother reached into her purse and pulled out one of the rattier tabloids that centered in Washington DC. The cover was a picture of Macey and I in that little café where we had hammered out our relationship, taken through the window. **Macy's Boy!** The headline read, then smaller, underneath it **What will Mama say about her baby's new romance?** Macey's hand covered her eyes, signaling she had known about our audience. Why hadn't she told me?

"You aren't to see this girl, Preston, she is trouble, and you know this. Publicity can make her look pretty, but you know why she's at that school. Her parents have to take drastic measures to keep her in line and I do not want you around her any more then you must to support your father. Do you understand? Good." She sighed and picked up her red wine, satisfied that the conversation was finished; I was impressed that it was only her first glass. As if on cue, she signaled the waiter for a refill.

I sighed, trying to push down my anger, not only for her unjust judgment of Macey's character, but also at her lack of respect for me. As if I would cave that easily.

_You always have before_, the insecure part of me pointed out.

"Mother, I do not wish to make a scene, we all know how you loath bad press, but I swear to you, if you ever say anything so derogatory about Macey, I will call the press myself and tell them about Father's girlfriends and your love affair with wine, and then no one will believe those wonderful little pictures you paint of your perfect family, now will they?" my voice was just as soft and I smiled at her warmly, for our audience.

My mother's answering smile looked sincere upon her painted lips, but her eyes were hard, and her knuckles whitened against the glass as she took a sip of her wine. "Careful, my dear, for all your little stories about our family, I have dozens about that girl, things you don't even know. Now, would you like to order dessert, or shall we go?"

I called Ms. Lassiter as soon as I was back in my room, thankful to be away from the frigid silence of my mothers company.

"Did you tell the press about my relationship with Miss McHenry?" I snapped, ignoring her polite greeting

"Mr. Winters, I am aware of the unfortunate publication, but I have no idea how it was leaked. I can assure you that we are doing everything we can to find the culprit, we are working on a statement as we speak that should be ready before the event tonight."

"Don't bother, the press will get plenty of pictures this evening, just don't let anything else slip through the cracks, are we clear?"

"Yes, sir."

I hung up and began to dress myself in a silk suit and scarlet tie, to match Macey's dress.

All four girls were beautiful, but I couldn't avert my eyes from Macey, she glowed in a scarlet dress that hugged her curves before gently flaring to her ankles. "Miss McHenry," I greeted her, kissing her hand, my eyes never leaving her face, accusing her for her silence.

"Mr. Winters," she replied with an icy polite smile. "It is wonderful to see you again, shall we proceed?"

Her campaign face was on, and that was beginning to piss me off because she hadn't worn it around me since the first weeks I had known her.

I wrapped her hand around my arm and lead her to her seat at the table, between her parents, while I sat between mine. The other girls sat at another table close by, with their dates.

A discreet bell chimed a few minutes later, signaling the beginning of the meal. Mr. McHenry gave a speech welcoming the delegation and reinforcing the friendship between nations but I barely heard him, even though political speeches usually fascinated me, I was too focused on Macey and her sudden coldness.

The meal seemed to last forever, and the food, flawlessly prepared, tasted like sawdust on my tongue. I made small talk and smiled when prompted, but otherwise stayed silent, noticing that Macey did the same.

After what felt like hours, the waiters in their cream jackets cleared away the crème brulee plates and a live string quartet began to tune their instruments.

"Dance with me." I ordered Macey softly, as soon as it was socially acceptable. She smiled politely and glanced around expectantly. "Are you waiting for someone to rescue you?"

"Of course not." She replied standing up and putting her arm in mine.

I waited until the music started before pulling her close to my body despite her resistance. "What is wrong with you? Why are you angry at me?"

"I'm not angry, why would I be angry?" she sounded cold and bored.

"Well, I don't know, you'll just have to tell me."

"God!" Bex cried, dancing by us in Grants arms. "You are both so stupid! She's all pissy because she called you when she was drunk and can't remember what she said. Oh, and because you told the press about your relationship." She spun away, her purple skirt floating behind her.

Macey looked a little pink, but her face remained neutral. "I don't think here is the best place to talk about what you said, but you were upset because you felt like the girls only loved you because of Gilly, and wanted to make sure I wanted you for you. Which is ridiculous because they are awesome friends, and I already told you why I wanted you."

"You're sweet," Macey said, leaning in to kiss me gently, her lips soft and smooth against mine.

"And about the other thing, I have no idea how the press knew, but I didn't tell them."

"I know, but it was easier to blame you while I was already mad, Liz scanned the photo and is tracing it, we'll know where it came from soon." She smiled slightly.

"So," I clasped her a little closer to me. "Are we good?"

"For now, but I am going to want more jewelry."


End file.
